Hunt Me Down

WICKED IS GOOD

He turned the corner and disappeared. I let out a shaky breath. Now I was really all alone. I decided to walk the opposite way of Thomas, down the corridor Minho and the other Griever went. I was nervous. No matter how certain I was that I was going to die, I wasn't just going to give up without a good run.

I walked slowly down the corridor, my skin sweaty and ears buzzing. I checked each corner meticulously, desperately trying not to draw attention to myself. There was little I could do in the face of a Griever. Though the farther I got from Alby, the more nervous I became. I could have just stayed under the ivy, I had a better chance there, right? Or at least, somewhere I could see what I was dealing with.

I looked up to the think ivy hanging on the walls. They went all the way to the top and if we could lift Alby up there, why couldn't I climb it? I thought back to what happened to Newt briefly, but this was different. I was trying to live and by God, I wasn't going to let go.

I fisted the ivy and slowly began to pull myself up. It was much harder than I thought, but I couldn't give up. By the time I was halfway up, I had to close my eyes, I was so lightheaded. I couldn't look down, I'd surely faint, fall off and die if I did so. Instead, I steadied myself and kept climbing. Every pull strained my side and where it had stopped bleeding as I was walking, I could feel my skin tear. It was excruciating, but I had little choice.

Dragging myself on top of the wall, I looked over the landscape. I wasn't far from the entrance of the Maze, we really weren't able to go far. I could see the wall and where it dipped, leaving a vast open space to what I assumed was the Glade. They would all be sleeping now, sleeping while we fought for our lives. It made me feel a bit bitter.

I hauled myself to my feet and began walking on top of the walls, trying to make my way closer to the Glade. Even if I couldn't climb down there, it was a bit more comforting. It was quiet, a light breeze in the air that sent goosebumps down my bare arms. I could hear the calls of Grievers in the distance and the echo of moving walls. I found a decent perch where I could look down at my home. There were still walls between us that I couldn't cross, but I felt more secure now, more determined to live.

I wanted to go home.

As the sound of the shifting walls got closer, I realized I couldn't stay up on top of the walls. They moved too fast, some even collapsing to make way for others. I'd be flung off the top and have no chance of survival at all. I ducked down and began a slow descent down the ivy, which was much more terrifying than climbing up.

The ground, it turned out, was not much better in terms of safety. Within minutes I was face to face with a Griever and I was terrified. I gave it all I had, running in the opposite direction. I felt like I was part of a game. If it wanted to, it could have killed me in moments, instead, it was almost as if it was toying with me. Nipping at my heels and then retreating, over and over in a terrifying game of Cat and Mouse. I didn't know the Maze, and with it changing all around me, I got lost easily. It was like it was leading me and my fears were only confirmed when I turned into a dead end. I pressed myself against the corner, curling up to feebly protect myself. There was nothing I could do, I thought it was the end.

The creature pressed closer to me, towering over and caging me in. I closed my eyes, ready to die, there was no escape for me this time. No ivy to crawl under. It breathed in my face and I tightened my eyes, turning my head away.

Instead of killing me, it did something I did not expect. Its metal claw lifted my hair, barring the back of my neck. It made an odd chuffing sound, tracing metal against fragile flesh. I shivered, tears falling down my cheeks without abandon. I had never been so afraid in my entire life, and even if I didn't remember my life before the Glade, I'm sure this topped anything that happened then too.

"WICKED is good, Hunter," It was a woman's voice, it was static, but it was there, "Remember, WICKED is good."

The creature dropped my hair, opting to crawl away back through the corridor. I fell forward onto my hands with a choked gasp. I leaned my head against the wall, my body weak and trembling. I felt like all the strength left in me had been sapped. Pressing my hand against my wound, I pulled my hand back. It came back dark, looking black in the lack of light. I tried to stand up, but my legs couldn't hold my weight. I fell back down with a groan.

I couldn't move, but I couldn't just give up. I had people I needed to get back to. I brought my hands to my harness, undoing the buckles and pulling it off. Sliding my shirt off as well so I was only clad in a bra. I wrapped the torn material around my waist as a makeshift tourniquet. I looked up at the sky in pain, trying to keep my eyes open.

"Hunter?" I heard a male voice and I looked over, "Oh my God, Hunter!"

It was Thomas, Minho right behind him. They ran over to my side, pulling me up between them, lifting me to my feet.

"Hey, boys," I smiled, "Long time no see."

"You crazy Shank," Minho laughed, both boys supporting me as we made our way out back into the other corridors.

"You won't believe what just happened," Thomas said, "We killed a Griever."

"What?"

"Technically Greenie here did, I've never seen anything like it," Minho grunted, adjusting the hand on my waist.

I let out a shallow laugh, leaning my weight heavily on Thomas who seemed the least exhausted of the two. We made it pretty far before they sat me down. We could see the sky turning lighter by the minute and I almost felt relieved. I leaned back against the concrete and let them manhandle me to a sitting position. Minho looked at my side, it hadn't bled for a while, but we still didn't know how bad it was. It could be very deep and still life-threatening, or shallow and long which kept bleeding due to strain. Either way, I wasn't doing so hot.

"Does it hurt too bad?" Minho asked, "Do we need to slow down?"

"Just be as gentle as you can," I murmured, head lolling to the side a bit, "We're not out of it yet, we can't slow down until we're back."

"We have to go back for Alby," Thomas reminded us and I thought Minho was going to scream.

He looked down at his shoes before pushing himself to his feet, "Yeah, you're right, we have to at least check to see if he's still there. Come on, up, up, up."

Back between them, we made our way through the Maze. Thank God for Minho, though Thomas and I were royally lost, he seemed to have some kind of idea where we were. I felt lucky, lucky we were all alive. No one had ever survived a night in the Maze and here we were, three Shuckfaces who happened to change that statistic.

They pulled Alby down from the ivy and I couldn't help but break out into a tired smile, my eyelids drooping. It wasn't long, felt like seconds after I closed my eyes that hands were slapping my cheeks lightly. I opened my eyes and saw the blurry face of Thomas in front of me. He reached down and picked me up, my head rolling on his shoulder and arms hanging uselessly.

"Come on, Hunter, we're almost there, just stay with me,"

In front of us, I could see Minho lugging the still unconscious body of Alby over his shoulder. I couldn't tell you how long it took to get from Alby to the Doors. Time was obsolete. Every step felt like hours, but each corridor seemed to end in minutes. I kept my eyes open, unfocused but up to the bottom of Thomas's jaw. He talked to me continuously, never pausing. It gave me something to focus on. Though in my hazy mind, the words made little sense, they kept me awake, kept me focused.

I could hear cheers, dim voices that slurred around me. I was being lowered, the bare skin of my shoulders meeting soft grass instead of rough stone. My head was resting in someone's lap and it took me a few moments to recognize Gally's face above mine. I felt hands all over my body, people calling my name. I wanted to respond, I wanted to say something, but I was too tired. I was too out of it to even think of the right words to even say.

"It's okay, Love," I heard someone say, "You can go to sleep, I've got you. We've all got you."

And then there was nothing.